


"You Call *THIS* Fiction??"

by matrixrefugee



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gen, Mildly bawdy humor, Twilight-sniping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 09:46:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17916479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matrixrefugee/pseuds/matrixrefugee
Summary: Aziraphale confronts Crowley for a textual sin. Crowley is amused by it.





	"You Call *THIS* Fiction??"

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/profile)[comment_fic](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/)'s [Good Omens, Crowley +/ Aziraphale, "Tell me, Crowley: is the abomination of a book called Twilight your work?"](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/250084.html?thread=50067428#t50067428) Been a while since I last read GO, so if the characterization is a bit off, that'd be why. But this prompt was too good to resist. WARNING: Mildly bawdy humor, Twilight-sniping

"Tell me, Crowley: is the abomination of a book called _Twilight_ your work?" Aziriphale demanded, thrusting under Crowley's nose a book with a picture of two pale hands cupping a ripe, red apple. The demon had always smirked a bit at that cover: so appropriate, and clever on the graphic designer's part for referencing a myth that few people really believed in any more. He couldn't help smirking now.

"Aziriphale, my dusty-winged friend, you can't lay the blame for every literary abomination that desolates the landscape, at my doorstep," Crowley replied innocently. "I'd soon be unable to step outside my door to visit you."

"Stop pretending to be ignorant: I've known you too long for it to work on me, especially when it's something as ghastly as this," the angel snapped, thumping the book with his free hand like a Baptist minister thumping a Bible at a tent revival. "Vegetarian vampires? That makes them sound as if they feed on tomato juice cans. Vampires with skin that sparkles? The only creatures that sparkle are pixies and no one's seen those since the kerfufle with those two girls and a box camera in the 1890s. Magical Native Americans who turn into wolves? That tribe in particular doesn't even believe in shapeshifting, let alone lycanthropy. What's going to be next? Revenants that offer chocolate boxes to young girls? Ghouls that chomp celery instead of corpses?"

"Humans are as inventive as the Creator you serve: it's their one proof that He made 'em in the first place," Crowley said. "Last time I had a hand in some literary balls-up was a little gem of a naughty magazine in the Victorian age. Should've hired men who'd actually done the deed instead of mama's boys who'd never even seen a lady of the night, much less toused one. Thought they'd be smart enough to do the research."

"What are you trying to tell me, then? That you didn't have a hand in penning this travesty?" Aziriphale replied, tiredly, letting the book sink to the countertop before him.

"In so many words, yes," Crowley replied. "I'd have found a writer who didn't use a thesaurus to give herself a scratch where it itches, and who knows how real people carry out believable conversations."

"It's still a dangerous book," the angel replied, losing most of his ire. "A girl who reads this is going to think that a vampire would actually care about her as a person, when all he can see her as, is a meal."

"Never mind that a vamp can't get it up unless he's got some fresh blood in him, which sort of defeats the purpose of wooing her," Crowley said, hiding the fact that the angel had hit on one good use for such polite little fantasies about kindly blood-drinkers.

"Oh, don't be lewd, you know what I meant," Aziriphale replied, patiently.


End file.
